Susan always liked to hear of all that made others happy, but she had to tell the children that if they all spoke at once she would not be able to hear what any of them said.  The voices were still raised one above the other, all eager to tell about ninepins, or marbles, or tops, or bows and arrows, when suddenly music was heard.  The children at once became silent, and looked round to see whence the sound came.  Susan pointed to the great oak-tree, and they saw, sitting under its shade, an old man playing upon his harp.  The children all drew near quietly, for the music was solemn; but as the harper heard little footsteps coming towards him, he played one of his more lively tunes.  The merry troop pressed nearer and nearer to the old man.  Then some of those who were in front whispered to each other, “He is blind.”  “What a pity!” “He looks very poor.”  “What a ragged coat he wears!” “He must be very old, for his hair is white; and he must have come a long way, for his shoes are quite worn out.”

All this was said while the harper tuned his harp.  When he once more began to play, not a word was spoken, but every now and again there was a cry of delight.  The old man then let the children name the airs they would like best to hear.  Each, time Susan spoke, he turned his face quickly to where she stood, and played the tune she asked for over and over again.

“I am blind,” he said, “and cannot see your faces, but I can tell something about each of you by your voices.”

“Can you indeed?” cried Susan’s little brother William, who was now standing between the old man’s knees.  “It was my sister Susan who spoke last.  Can you tell us something about her?”

“That I can, I think,” said the harper, lifting the little boy on his knee.  “Your sister Susan is good-natured.”

William clapped his hands.

“And good-tempered.”

“Right,” said little William, clapping louder than before.

“And very fond of the little boy who sits on my knee.”

“Oh! right, right, quite right!” exclaimed the child, and “quite right” echoed on all sides.

“But how do you know so much, when you are blind?” said William, looking hard at the old man.

“Hush!” whispered John, who was a year older than his brother and very wise, “you should not remind him that he is blind.”

“Though I am blind,” said the harper, “I can hear, you know, and I heard from your sister herself all that I told you of her, that she was good-tempered and good-natured and fond of you.”

“Oh, that’s wrong—­you did not hear all that from her, I’m sure,” said John, “for nobody ever hears her praising herself.”

“Did not I hear her tell you,” said the harper, “when you first came round me, that she was in a great hurry to go home, but that she would stay a little while, since you wished it so much?  Was not that good-natured?  And when you said you did not like the tune she liked best, she was not angry with you, but said, ’Then play William’s first, if you please.’  Was not that good-tempered?”